


Midnight Choice

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-03-15
Updated: 2001-03-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A New Year, a New Century, a New Millenium... and a New Relationship.





	Midnight Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Midnight Choice by Kand

TITLE: Midnight Choice  
AUTHOR: Kand  
FANDOM: X-Files  
CHARACTERS: M/K  
SPOILERS: Requiem. Season 8 is ignored; not aired in France still.  
RATING: NC-17 (explicit m/m sex)  
DISCLAIMER: all characters belong to Chris Carter, Fox Productions, 1013. No infringment intended.  
SUMMARY: A New Year, a New Century, a New Millenium... and a New Relationship.  
AUTHOR's NOTE: this story was first discussed during one of the last European RATchat of year 2000; thanks to Yvi, Laylya, Vanzetti for their thoughts about Krycek's "strategy"... And let me make something clear: I read "Admission" by Aries *after* writing this story. And I was baffled at some coincidences - this is not plagiary, I swear. It seems *our* Alexs look a good deal like each other!  
ARCHIVE: yes, feel free. Just tell me.  
URL: http://www.geocities.com/kand2m/midnight.html  
FEEDBACK:   
BETA: a great thank to Inky (SPAK's mom) who made it the old way with pen and paper, as she's somewhere in French Alps without any access to the Net...and to Vanzetti, Goddess of Grammar and Syntax!

* * *

Midnight Choice  
by Kand

X-Files office - 12/31, 2000 - 8:50 pm

Scully enters the office, and with arms akimbo she shakes her incredulous head at her partner. "Mulder?"

The chesnut head raises from the contact-plate it's been bent over. Mulder lays his magnifying glass down on his desk, and stretches his arms, yawning at the same time. "Yes, Scully?"

"Do you know what time it is?"

He checks his watch, and glances at her with questioning eyes.

"Mulder! We're expected at the Bureau's party at 11. I had hoped you were going to make a little effort to dress properly tonight. We don't change milleniums so often, you know."

He laughs heartily and with a wink inquires, "I hope *you* are going to make an effort too, Scully?"

His partner grins mysteriously and clicks her tongue in a promising way. "Wait and see, Mulder! So, please! Go home!" She turns on her heels and leaves the room with a wave goodbye and a "See you later!"

\-------------------

Alexandria, 10:45

I enter my apartment with a wide yawn. I wonder if the party is really worth the haste. It won't be a mesmerizing New Year's Eve, not as the previous one, by any means. Nobody will rise from the dead. In any case I'm going to be late. I remained sunk into that file after Scully has departed. I should have left the office earlier; my partner was right. She's always right. With a sigh I take off my parka and turn round to hang it on the peg.

And I find myself face to face with a gun.

I open my hands, letting go of the coat, and keep them up. I slowly back to the center of the living-room, motioned by the Sig Sauer held by a black leather gloved hand. My legs are blocked by the coffee table and Krycek walks right up to me.

"Listen, Mulder. We have to talk."

"Of course. And you need a gun to start a conversation? That is pathetic."

"With you, yes. I find it difficult to speak when half strangled, usually." He takes a few more steps forwards, enough to almost touch me, and the barrel of his gun nestles in my neck.

Avoiding any rough move I gesture him to go on. "Let's finish with this quickly; there's a party waiting for me. So, what's the matter?"

My former partner's eyes darken. They gleam in a way I have never seen before. His voice is low, a hot velvet teasing the very edge of my shivering nerves.

"Mulder. I'm afraid."

"You? You're afraid? Come on, Krycek! Who are you trying to fool?"

His eyes remain steady, riveted to mine, and I begin to feel slightly uneasy. Besides the fact his P220 is stuck in the hollow of my neck, that's to say. I make a weak attempt to break the kind of spell that's taking over between us. "Did that smoking bastard rise from the dead? Have you cheated somebody once too much? Have the Rebels realized what kind of untrustworthy scumsucker you are?"

His stubborn silence seems to weave a kind of uncomfortable sticky cobweb between our bodies. I feel entangled but I resist the urge to shake myself from his... enticement? What I can't resist is the temptation to tease, to provoke. "I know! The Apocalypse! This is the *real* millenium, true. Scully reminded me of it no later than a couple of hours ago."

He shrugs - a bemused gesture that doesn't dislodge his armed hand from my jugular. "Even *you* never believed that crap. And it's not the *real* millenium; the computations are wrong and we're probably in 2004 or something so. Even a good Roman Catholic like Scully can't ignore that fact, can she? And I'm not taking any other calendar into account." He sighs and in a leap of logic he adds, "Do you know that in Africa, Copts are using the oldest calendar on this Earth? We're very young over here, Mulder. Anyway, John announces a reign of a thousand years before the end, which millenarians comfortably forget."

I try to lightly move away from him, but his hand follows my neck, immediately convincing me to carefully stop. The man stares at me in an undecipherable manner. He bites his lower lip before saying, "The only apocalyptic world we can dream of, Mulder, we're already deep in it. You and me, more than everyone else." Then, with a rush of anger, or what I think is anger, or what I prefer to think of as anger:

"Jeez, Mulder, when Skinner told us of your abduction, I really thought I had lost you. Forever."

Before I can voice a sarcastic retort, his hand rises, the gun turns away from my face, and a curved leather thumb comes to softly rub my cheek. I freeze, but the gesture is anything but a threat. Should I have been mistaking it for one, the deep green eyes would disabuse me. They're filled with... concern? The stroking finger lingers on my jaw, turning my uneasiness into something that feels like panic. I'm trying hard not to shake. I take refuge in an old routine.

"You mean you'd miss me beating the shit out of you, Krycek?" Maybe my voice lacks a little strength. Hell, I'm doing my best.

"I mean I'd just miss you, Mulder."

I'd like not to understand what I think I'm understanding. Fuck. Even to my own mind I don't sound that convincing. Why do I let him touch my face, reeling off all this bullshit? His gun is turned away; if I want to knock him out, it's now or never. Why don't I move?

His train of thought has probably followed mine as a huge fatigue invades his eyes. "I'll never let you go away, not anymore, Mulder. I mean it," he asserts. His hand leaves my cheek and comes to rest on my shoulder. I feel the uncomfortable weight of his weapon on my collarbone.

"So?" I feel rather stupid. I should find a smarter answer. But my brain seems to be out for the night.

"So, you have the choice. You can kill me right now. That's an option." I open my mouth to answer that it suits me perfectly, but before the words can form, I see the implications, and he seems eager to prevent some himself. "It would look like self-defence. I broke into your apartment, threatened you, and so on. Just played a bit rougher than usual. Could do. I don't want you to go through anything unpleasant regarding your career."

Well, that wasn't that kind of implication I had thought of - if I'm to be truly honest. Anyway, to coldly shoot a... a what? An innocent? An unarmed man? He never was. And he isn't, actually, is he?

I regain some control with a more civilized proposal. "I could arrest you, Krycek. In fact, that's the most logical option."

He softly shakes his head. His eyes are always locked with mine, hooking my attention, my thoughts, my feelings. The dark green irises filter a new shade of sadness under these long lashes of his. How can a guy have such beautiful eyes? I was aware of them as soon as he was assigned to me as a partner. And it remains disturbing. Why doesn't he look elsewhere, for God's sake? Why don't *I* look elsewhere? His husky voice acts as a magnet.

"Logical, but unacceptable. The silo was too much, Mulder. I won't stand imprisonment anymore. Tunisia made it clear, had I had any illusion. I'll never let you, or anybody else, catch me alive."

The practical statement takes me off guard. Against my own will I protest, "Come on, Krycek, you're a survivor if I know one! You always keep an emergency exit."

A new shake of his head. He lets out a deep sigh, hesitates, and takes the plunge.

"All these years, I held on because of you." I must show a very puzzled face, for he looks at me with a grin that's sad and amused at the same time. Hard to achieve that, but his face can be so expressive... Well, *he* succeeds. Then something very strange happens. I'm suddenly conscious that for once he isn't hiding anything. Don't ask me how I can be sure of such an inconceivable idea, but I know his face is like an open book for me to read.

Krycek neglecting to, refusing to protect his thoughts from me. It's highly unsettling. Like learning there's no such thing as Santa Claus, kind of. And he's ramming the point home.

"As soon as I realized I felt attracted to you, I stopped fighting the idea. I'm not deluding myself as you are, Mulder. Waste of time and energy. Turn your weakness into a strength: first thing you learn in martial arts. From that day," he smiles at me, tenderly, I swear! and it sends a hot wave along my spine and right into places I'd prefer to ignore at the moment, "You've been my wild card. I settled you in some corner of my mind... A kind of shelter I could reach into when things became too hard, even for me."

"On the other hand, every time I came to offer you my help, you blanked out... But I didn't care. I kept thinking that little by little, you'd finish by accepting that I was on your side. Of course, my "bad manners" always gave you good reasons for burying your head in the sand when it came to me. Easier to think that all this was nothing but a brilliant disguise."

Time-out, please. I need it to process uploaded data. But you don't grant me one.

"I hate to disappoint you, Mulder, but *you* kept me alive, all this time. Even if you considered me to be your whipping-boy, or more exactly a punching bag. Whatever you try to convince yourself of, you know I'd never hurt you. Not intentionally."

I close my eyes. Not a smart reaction, but I can't think when you look at me that way. Remote parts of my body protest at the broken link between us and I can't shut up them as easily. Breath control. Yup, too late for that kind of trick, I'm afraid. I feel a warm blow not so far from my lips and I reopen my eyes in a survival response. Well, you aren't *that* close. Further than I thought, anyway. But your emerald stare's still freezing me.

In one rapid rush of air - I hate myself for this, I should be able to speak in a firm tone, shit - I manage to summarize the situation. "So I have the choice between killing you and... killing you. Self-defence, or resisting arrest by a Federal Agent. Are these your sole options, Krycek?"

Your voice is still lower than mine, if possible. But in the deafening silence I can't miss your words. "There's a third one."

"Y-y-yeah?" God, I'd like to speak, not gasp! And could my cock think of something else than the vicinity of your body, please.

"Hmmm. Mulder, I'm neither blind nor stupid. Can you swear you never thought of me *that* way? Could you play fair just for once?"

"Krycek, you wouldn't recognize a fair play if it bit you in the ass!"

He doesn't answer; he just looks at me with an indulgent frown. I can't stand it. "So, what do you want from me? A one night stand?? As a New Year's tip?" He holds on, and his eyes keep telling me that I won't get away with a punchline. I need to loosen the tension that he's been building to a breaking point. "Listen, Krycek, you're the one who broke in here, coming out with all that rubbish! Make your point, or leave me alone! I can't understand why I'm listening to you at all."

"My point is I want you to stop deceiving yourself about us. Let me be part of your life, Mulder. Let me fight on your side and take me as I am. I don't think I'm going to change, and I don't think I wish to either. But you're the only one I'd follow along this road now. I won't take the chance of losing you again. If you don't want me to... stay with you, let me protect you at least. I'm taking the trip with you, or I stop here. Definitively."

I remain silent. I let his words sink into my brain. Some of them sink deeper and I wish once more I could forget the lower part of my body. Okay, Mulder, remember the mantra: he's a murderer, a traitor, not worth the muddy soil he'll be laid under, he belongs to the rats he learnt to live with, he killed your father, he's unable to respond when you hit him 'cause he cares, no, not that, fuck!

Surely it would be fine not to be on the watch 24/7, to have a skilled assassin as a bodyguard and a... a what? A green-eyed bastard looking after my health and welfare? A honey voice whispering comforting things in my ear when I feel down? A tall, slender, trained body to fuck me into oblivion? SHIT. Mulder, control! I pour out an inner litany of curses on my traitorous senses and I steel myself.

Crap. Bullshit. A naughty joke to spoil my New Year's Eve party. Krycek threatening to commit suicide? How plausible! I can't resist the evil that lurks in some black folds of my twisted mind.

I pull back a few inches, take a deep breath, and offer, "I believe the second option's the better. Arresting you, resistance, shooting, etc. What do you think about?"

He looks straight into my eyes and speaks in an even voice. "If you've made up your mind. Just take out your gun. First I'm going to shoot somewhere in the room so it will look authentic. Maybe I should take off my glove, so my fingerprints remain on my gun and I get powdermarks on my hand. I don't want you to be incriminated in any way. And I suppose you'll have to beat me a good deal first. At least," he shrugs, "I'll feel your hands on me one last time. More than I deserve, I suppose."

I stare at him. Is he kidding? His eyes have became indecipherable again; his mouth doesn't shiver. I shouldn't push him but the words escape my lips. "Any last wish? Cigarette? Vodka?"

He becomes thoughtful, then he licks his lips, and dares me, "A last kiss. A *true* one."

He's hitting below the belt, right? What was I expecting?

I hold his stare, but I can't guess what game he's playing. Could it be he's *not* playing at all? Unthinkable. I'd back him against Karpov or one of the grandmasters, anytime. I start, but it's only his hand back on my cheek.

"Please, Mulder, let me... just once." Before I can think of an answer he takes one step forward and his whole body is along mine; I feel his warm chest against mine, one long thigh between my legs, his hardness against my own. My head's spinning and my hands clutch at his leather lapels of their own accord. His lips make a smooth landing on my mouth, half parted, infusing me with his breath; I taste him and it's like I've found him again. My left brain is disconnected, for sure, or how could my tongue search for his own?

A part of me is attending the performance with scientific curiosity. It sees my hand surrounding his neck to pull him closer if it's possible, and the other one slipping across the small of his back. It checks the motion of my hips that grind my erection against his own. It listens to a continuous moaning that appears to be mine.

Then his tongue answers mine with a tenderness that I shouldn't acknowledge, and now it invades me, probing deep inside, licking my palate, my teeth, the inside of my cheeks. I desperately suck it. The scientific witness is nowhere to be found any longer, and I really don't care.

I whimper as Alex's lips let go of mine and open shocked eyes to drown in his own, finding them burning with an eager green flame that devours my soul. I can't peel myself away from his hot body. My arm around his waist holds on for both of us, but my other hand begins to explore his fine face, mimicking his previous gesture. I can't believe what's happening and he seems as incredulous as myself. Okay, Alex, what did you expect, frankly? By the way, when has Krycek become Alex??

My mind is filled with questions, but my body obviously has a prior claim. Alex's own seems to agree with mine on this point and our mouths find each other without further hesitation. Gently tilting my head to the side, I allow us to breathe in a little more easy way, and Alex is able to show me all his skill. It looks like he's dedicated a good deal of time to thinking of how to please my mouth - and that his considerations were most constructive.

Alex groans and I pull back with a questioning glance. He looks at his gun with annoyance and, stretching his arm above my shoulder, he throws the weapon away onto the couch behind me. His free hand is back on me, softly stroking my neck, my throat. His long gloved fingers draw feathery lines along my cheek, follow my temple, brush my eyebrow... I didn't imagine my face could be that sensitive.

The profiler is back, stubbornly knocking at the door of my brain. I'd like to silence him but, despite the arousal turning my legs to water, I can't shut him out - not entirely. "Did you really mean it, Alex? Did you really want me to kill you?"

He smiles. And his smiles have been so rare, I bet I could get off just looking at one. Huh, can one get smileburns? In a somewhat shy voice he asks, "Say that again, please?"

I frown, and he insists. "You called me Alex. I dreamed for years of hearing you do that. It's still better than I thought. Please?"

I chuckle and reach his cute pointed ear; I nibble on its soft edge before chanting his first name into it as sensually as I can. It isn't difficult, not at all. I think I could rapidly become addicted to it, as well as to the low groans trembling in his throat as I embed my crotch in his. I traitorously repeat my question in the ear that's all mine for the present time.

I feel his head leaning down, his forehead coming to rest on my shoulder, and in an almost inaudible voice he answers, "I really hoped it wouldn't come to that. But..." I cup his chin in my hand and lift his head. If I've once more been the victim of this tricky mind of his I'd like to know it, even if I feel ready to forgive him. All's fair in love and war, as they say. Hey, look who's talking of love!

His eyes are back in mine, the thick sable fringe casting a shadow on the green fire, a fire that's almost drowned in... tears? I feel a squeeze around my heart as my brave little soldier tries to steady his voice. "If you had turned me away... I don't think I'd have been able to stand it. Letting you kill me, well... It would have been romantic, for sure. But even I - I'm not selfish enough to put such a weight on your conscience. I suppose I'd just have left. And ceased to be *careful*. 'Game over' pretty quickly, I guess."

I hold his fine face in both my hands. I wish I could erase the pain I see here, so open to me! The smart profiler's still smirking somewhere in a remote area of my wicked brain, and I'd really like to mangle him for good. I'm content with pushing him aside with a non-commital "Time will tell".

The telephone makes us jump and we both look at it like children caught in the act. As the ringing doesn't stop, Alex gently pushes me toward the desk, with a kind smile. I hate to break contact, even for a split second, but I reach for the phone, and he sits down on my couch.

"Mulder. Yes, Sir. It's almost midnight?" A quick glance at my watch. Yes, he's right. "The party? Oh yes, of course. No, I didn't forget. I was..." Now, what explanation? "I'm sorry. I wanted to rest a little and I fell asleep... Yes, I'm going to be late. I'm really sorry. No, no, everything's all right. Listen, maybe it's better for me to stay here, and... What, you're coming here to pick me up?" I look desperately at Alex. "No, don't, I'm coming. Yes, time to dress, and I'm in. Sorry, I'll be late for midnight's twelve strokes, yes. But I'm coming right now, I promise."

I put the phone back in its base. Alex is at my side already, his flesh hand resting on my arm. I think of my situation, the realization of which makes me suddenly laugh, and Alex raises an inquisitive eyebrow. I voice my thoughts aloud. "I don't want you to leave. If Skinner and C° come here... They can't find you here. I... I must go to the party, even for a little while. Yet I don't want to leave... now." I glance at him accusingly. "What have you done to me?"

"Nothing else than what you've been doing to me for years ..." He strokes my tousled hair, grinning as he pushes back the strand that keeps falling on my forehead. "Better for you to go to that party."

"You want me to leave?" I'm already suspicious. But he shakes his head.

"I'd prefer not, but these colleagues of your are probably merry enough at this time of the night to do as they threaten, and come here to pick you up." He's close to me, rubbing his hot body against mine, cupping my face to drown me in his eyes. "You dress, you go, you're back. And I'm waiting for you. I won't move."

The suspicion doesn't give way easily. "And what if you're not here when I'm back? What if all this is nothing but a cruel joke?" He seems shocked, and he clenches his teeth.

With another brush of my hair he simply answers, "It's a matter of trust."

Yes. That's the whole point. I nod and reluctantly leave him to reach the bathroom and change clothes.

Ten minutes later I'm back in the living room, dressed as a penguin. Alex is leaning on *my* couch, with his back against *my* cushions. His half lowered eyelashes filter an amused green glow as he contemplates my party attire. I go to him, lean over his long leather clad silhouette, and sheepishly claim his mouth, "for the road". He complies with enthusiasm - I wonder how I'm going to decently show at the party with such an obvious bulge tending my tuxedo pants. His hand that checks my hardness without mercy doesn't help. I'm gasping and hearing bells and whistles.

Alex bursts out into laughter and, squeezing me, he exclaims: "Happy New Year, Mulder!"

"What?" I'm still hearing bells, whistles, horns, crackers, shouts... Oh God, it's midnight? I stare in the dark-green depths and whisper, "Happy New Millenium, Alex..." Our mouths join for an almost chaste kiss, and with a last pinch to my aching cock he softly breathes, "You're *really* late. Go now."

My hand on the doorknob, I turn to face my best enemy; I wonder if I'll see him ever again. His lips silently mouth, *trust me*. And I'm gone.

\-------------------

Alexandria 2:55 am

Mulder rushes out of his car, greeted by a fresh burst of snow. He tightens the collar of his loden coat around his throat and hurries through the entrance of his building. His heart's beating loudly as he can't brush the idea of an empty apartment from his mind, and he curses himself for calling such misfortune upon himself.

The lift is agonizingly slow, the corridor stretches far too long, the key fumbles in the lock... The opening door reveals a dark living room and his heart sinks. Then the dim light emanating from the bedroom makes it rebound madly.

He takes off his heavy coat whilst still walking, throws it somewhere to the ground, and reaches the rarely used bedroom door. He stops on the threshold, holding his breath.

Sable hair tousled on the white pillow, thick eyelashes lowered on the high ivory cheekbones, and sweet lips parted in a dreamy pout paint the improbable picture of an angelic Alex lost in peaceful sleep.

Mulder approaches the bed and kneels beside it; relief and desire merge to send electric jolts right to his groin. He wishes he can stay here, contemplating his forbidden wet dream came true. But the fine lips are too appealing. He can't resist any longer; he bends over the lovely face as his mouth craves for a taste of paradise again.

\-------------------

Danger!

I wake up with a start, drawing the Sig from its usual place under the pillow, and I stick it in the intruding chest above me, unlocking the safety in the same fluant move. I don't remember how many times that kind of reflex has saved my life. My guardian angel has been on the dole for long now - I'm my best bodyguard.

The silhouette close to me jerks back in surprise and in a haze I hear a voice of pain gasping, "Alex! It's me!"

The introduction lacks clarity, but I'd recognize his warm, anxious tone in the deepest coma. I open my eyes at last, to stare at Mulder's face, where hurt and angst mingle. My whole body relaxes and I put the gun down on the sheet, leaving it to hastily cup his cheek. I rub his rough jaw. I'm so happy I don't even think of apologies.

Pulling his neck, I raise my face to meet his. I want his mouth, now. I can't wait to taste him. And at the same time, I'm sick with that awful thought: I almost shot him! He understands - his eagerness meets mine, he's crushing my lips, biting them, and I feel a taste of copper on my tongue. I push it between his lips to give him my blood to drink, and he's already sucking at it. His mouth has a faint taste of Champagne and plain chocolate, a last remnant of the party he had to attend.

He pulls back but I don't want to let go of him. I have slept a few hours in his bed, I guess, but for years I've been in a lonely slumber, only awoken every now and then by his magic touch. He pushes me back against the pillow, softly, his strong hand on my chest, and his smile burns deep into me.

"We could put this somewhere else. I don't think we'll need it tonight," he chuckles as he picks up my gun. He locks the safety mechanically and puts the weapon on the nightstand, near the lamp I've left on. I can't stand darkness around me. He sits on the mattress'edge and his hands tug at the sheet I've pulled up under my chin. "You went to bed in your clothes?"

I wink, "I thought you'd prefer to unwrap your New Year's Present yourself. I admit," I add, "that my own gift is more luxuously packed." My fingers go to his black silk bow tie and I pull on the extremity, unknotting it with delight. He lets me do it and the way he looks at me makes me feel like I'm an apple pie in the middle of a Thanksgiving table.

I unbutton his very white shirt. It's a little difficult with the buttons hidden under the front fly, and all the more as I don't look at my working hand. I'm caught in his hazel-grey eyes that sparkle in anticipation. Button after button I check my advance by slipping my fingers through the soft hair of his chest, sending shivers across his warm skin. As soon as the gap allows me I reach to brush a nipple that's lovingly responsive, and I pinch it, playing with it with my thumb and forefinger, twisting it just enough to make my gift arch in my touch with a deep moan.

God, how much I want this man.

He puts his hands flat on both sides of my head and leans over me, making it easier for me to finish undoing his shirt. I wonder a short while: do I remove him from his jacket first, or should I start another exploration? Hmm. I choose the lower part. I find the tip of the cummerband and start unrolling it - he has to help me, as suddenly I feel clumsy. The long satin thing flies out and I launch an attack on his fly. I'm already inside, and my hand hasn't to search for his hardness that generously bucks to meet my fingers. I knew he was hung. I felt him each time our bodies came into contact. But if the fighting aroused him it was nothing like what the tenderness is offering me now.

I stroke him slowly through the silky fabric of his boxers; it's teasing to me as to himself. I must fight not to roll him over on the bed at once, not to rip off all these clothes that cross my path, not to swallow all of him in a rush, not to stretch my whole body along his own and to open him and to enter him by all means...

My desire is so strong that it almost makes me cry and I close my eyes, as I can't stand the sight of his panting mouth anymore. Somebody is whining, and I think it's me. The mattress gives way a little as he moves closer to me, and his hands are on me, exploring my chest through my pullover and my t-shirt. Despite the knitted wool I feel his fingers tracing their path along my ribs, each lingering touch tying a new rope that knots around my cock and my balls. My hips rise, searching for him, pleading for more.

His hands reach my belly, at last. They slip under the cotton and wool layers, but it's his nails that letcherously scratch along my waistband, sending a delicious spasm through my lower torso. Then they leave me. So suddenly that I gasp. I feel him standing up and the sheet is pulled from over my body. I turn my face to watch him and find him balancing against the nightstand to get rid of his shoes and socks.

His half bare chest dances in front of me. His long fingers grab the wood nightstand. His chestnut lock falls over his forehead and swings with each move. In one fluid motion I sit on the edge of the bed, and spreading my legs I pull him between them. He's above me, his hands on my shoulders, grinning a happy grin at me, and I'm probably dreaming all of this. If somebody wakes me up he won't live to tell about, I swear.

I encircle his slim waist with my prosthesis - it's awkward but I need my good hand to worship him. I begin to eat him in a systematic way, licking, nibbling and softly biting every inch of his chest. I make a long halt at one of the nipples I've already teased and as I have only one mouth, the other stiffened piece of flesh must content itself with my hand for a while. I suck at it in despair as I can't stop dark memory emerging from my screwed up brain. In the silo, long ago, I was so thirsty that I hallucinated: I was drinking of him, from his mouth, his cock, his nipples, his fingers. He was a spring and gave me all I craved for, until I woke up once again in absolute darkness, my mouth still dryer than before.

He lets out a cry of pain and I realize I've biten him savagely. I want to apologize. I'm insane; he's going to send me away, thinking I'm just a beast, and...

His arms are around me, he kneels between my legs, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes shine in mine. With a soothing "shhh" his lips close over mine. I hurt him and he's the one who comforts me. His hands reach the lower part of my pullover and begin to pull it along my torso. I was afraid of that; he has never seen my stump. But all at once it's of no importance. He understands so many things. I obediently raise my right arm and he makes the garment slide above my head, and along my plastic arm.

Before putting away my pullover he nestles his nose in the wool and whisper, "I love your smell so much." His eyes are closed and he seems to drown in the scent. I take the sweater from his hands and get rid of it. I'd prefer him to *do it* now. I mean, seeing me, as I *am* now. Maybe some of the old anguish is visible on my face as he leans once more to kiss me in that caressing and caring way of his, while taking hold of my t-shirt. Our kiss is broken just enough to let the cotton fabric pass between us, and his fingers are all over my chest, his tongue probing inside my mouth.

His hand comes to my left shoulder and I can't help a nervous jerk. His mouth is even more soothing than before, if possible. I focus on my desire, and my fear becomes so weak beside it. This time I go directly to his waistband, undo the last button holding his pants, shove all of his garments down and eagerly take him in my hand. Oh my God, he's so sweet, so strong, and his skin is burning my fingers as his weight presses in my palm - I miss my second hand more than ever, I wish I could hold him with both, stroking all of him.

He tilts his head back with a hoarse sound and I can feed on his throat, licking my way up and down, back and forth, first feverishly, then more slowly, matching the moves along his neck with the ones around his throbbing cock. I emit a "humph" of discontent as my nose butts against his shirt and tuxedo jacket, and he undresses in haste, leaving me room to taste him in full. I've never been offered chocolate truffles at Christmas, but even if I had, I'd give a whole year's production just for some of my Fox's skin. I bite in the hollow of the neck where the shoulder attaches - and this time it's not inadvertent. I linger there, biting, sucking with all my strength. I want to mark him and he complies, grasping my head and forcing himself against my teeth.

When I release him (but not his cock, nobody could take it from me!) I find him fumbling with my jeans. I stand up taking him with me in my motion, so we can free each other. We're naked, both of us, from head to toe, and I can't stop marveling at his swimmer's long body.

"Do you want to keep it, or do you prefer to take it off?" I must look dumb and deaf, 'cause he repeats his question in a soft tone as his hands gently fondle my hips. I understand he's talking about my prosthesis and suddenly I find myself shaking. His arms close around my waist, tightly, and his mouth drops small kisses on my injured shoulder until I calm down.

Sooner or later, if he allows me to settle in his life, he will see *it*. Better to make a clean breast of things now. That's a harsh way to put it but that's how I feel about it, sorry. Only physicians and other 'professionals' have seen it - besides those who made it, I mean. So I let go of his member unwillingly to lift up my hand and unstrap the thing. I avoid his eyes and wonder if he'll stay *that* hard after. I don't want to think that it could arouse him. Not him, please. Sometimes you meet real freaks; I had to make things clear with some guys in Tunisia.

I let my plastic arm slide to the ground, carefully - I need it. I glance at him, somewhat defiantly, but I can't see any change in his eyes. He stares at me with the same blend of tenderness, hunger, flame, need, and what else? He looks like a man who's been starving for months, no, for years. Just like me. The desire in his eyes draws a path of fire that instantaneously reaches my cock, making it buck against his upper thigh. Before I can press myself against him his leg encircles mine and I'm on the bed, flat on my back, without the slightest instinct to fight back.

He leans on me and all his body's fitting mine: his legs pressing my legs between them, his left arm along my good arm, his fingers entwined in my fingers. But his right hand slips between our crotches and closes around me. At last I feel his fingers on my flesh and the tantalizing hold makes me arch up against him. He doesn't loosen his grip, squeezing me in a rhythmic move that tears cries from my throat, and he drinks them on my lips. He's in control of me, completely. I can't move without his consent and I never thought I'd be able to let anybody gain such a power over me - only him.

He pulls his head back, tilts it a little and says with dreamy eyes, "I think I'm going to eat you." With that he lets himself slide in front of the bed and I see his swollen mouth taking a walk under my shaft. My hips jerk toward his full lips, or at least they try, but he's always in control, his free hand pushing my ass against the sheet. I could easily throw him aside. Instead I beg for his mouth to take me.

He willingly complies. His lips encircle my head. I feel his tongue playing under the crown for a short while before he swallows me. His hand doesn't push me back anymore; it cups my balls and press them cautiously, his thumb's stroking just under them at the same time, Jeez, he's going too quickly, please, Fox, stop.

His mouth leaves me with agonizing slowness. His left fingers massage mine, then let go of them, and he's pulling back, standing up. I feel abandoned, too shocked to protest. But as despair tries to creep into my mind I realize that he's only searching the nightstand's drawer for some supplies. Things are not going to be that easy if I shake like a virgin on his first date each time he moves.

He's back and, kneeling between my spread legs, he caresses my thigh, his hand turning all around it, his thumb teasing the tender skin of the inner side, reaching my perineum, circling my opening with insistent pressure. "Do you want to fuck me, Lissinka?" My words are low, merely an intimate whisper.

His grin turns wicked as he answers in that husky voice that finishes me off, "Do you want me to fuck you, Alex?" Both of us are used to keeping control, and both of us know it. I suppose you could say that tonight it's me who came asking for him, so it's all to him to call the shots. But I can't think that far - I just want him. I want to melt with him, and how doesn't matter, believe me.

He reads the answer on my face, and drops some lube on his fingers. Then he seems to change his mind and stands up once more. My face is obviously not an enigma to him tonight as he hastens to reassure me. "Wouldn't we be more comfortable in the middle of the bed?"

Oh yes, of course, he's right. I prop myself up on my elbow and reach the pillows. Then I wonder in which position he *wants* me. God, I'm really surrendering. Seeing my hesitation he lays me down on my back and I bend my knees to give him free access. I don't know if he's chosen that position to spare my dignity - of which I don't give a damn right now, let's admit it. But as his finger finds my opening for the second time, circling and pushing with very gentle motions, he leans over me and kisses me with infinite tenderness.

His lips brush mine and he whispers, his eyes gleaming with happiness, "I want to see you all the time. I want to look in your eyes, at your lips, your long lashes, your nose, your chin..." With each word his mouth demonstrates, "... your cheeks, your eyebrows, your neck, your throat... while I'm inside you." And with that his finger pushes a little further and passes my sphincter, causing me to tighten around it. I gasp, and try to breathe deeply and to relax around him. "Yesss," he hisses, "you're such a sight... Leave it to me, honey..."

His finger fully enters me at last, and rests in my channel without moving for a while. He's looking at me, with an intense stare under which I can't hide any of my sensations. I slowly adjust myself to his digit and when he feels it, he begins to move again, slowly, almost out, deep in, again, again... I breathe as quietly as I can and when his second finger comes to join the first, he silently asks me and I just can nod my assent. My body is bolder and my hips rise to meet his hand.

I recall the memory of feelings lost for long in the past. But it isn't true. I never felt anything like this, with anyone else. I've done this before, okay, but not so, not this way, not with so attentive a lover, somebody so dedicated to my pleasure. A doubt crosses my mind: does he act this way with all his bedmates? Before I can think further his knuckles hit my prostate and I shout uncontrollably. He does it again, and again, and he smiles at me with such a contented look...

"Fox, please," I beg.

"Do you want me to stop? Or to go on?" He's teasing me; he knows perfectly well I want both! I stretch my arm to grab his erection and show him what I *really* want. He nods and lets go of me to coat himself. I try to hold my head up - I want to look at him while he's doing so. I love his hands, I love his cock, and I love to see him touching himself that way. Some day I'll ask him to jerk off for me to look at, just like this, with my cheek on his thigh; I'll look at him till the end, and he won't allow me to touch him, and stop that Alex, or you're going to come before he can enter you.

He's ready now and I put my legs on his shoulders, asking for his approval. He lifts my bottom higher, points me and pushes against my opening. I haven't been done in years and he knows it from my previous reactions. So he operates with utmost gentleness despite our common hunger. He fondles my bottom, waiting for me to relax, and enters little by little, inserting his glans at last. He's ready to wait for me again but I want him so strongly that I summon up what remains of my self-control (badly damaged, I must say) to relax entirely around him, inviting him to fill me with all his length. My hand pulls his head down to mine and I devour his mouth, cursing and begging at the same time. I want him in, now... He's killing me, please, Fox.

I must have been convincing, for with a few thrusts he settles deep inside my loins, filling me with burning flesh and pure happiness altogether. I cry in his mouth. He's inside me, around me, one arm encircling my waist and holding me tightly against him. His other hand has closed around my aching member and is jerking me off with precise strokes that drive me crazy. With each shove his head hits my gland and his thumb rubs my crown. I'm lost in a whirl of feelings, in his heat, the scent of his skin and sweat and love. I don't want this to end; please could somebody shoot both of us before this comes to an end? I don't want to wake up.

\-------------------

I don't know what's the most delicious: looking at you, listening to the sounds you make? You're purring like a cat, a wild cat. I'm riding a tiger, and you give me full control of you. Do you... love me? And I'll give you control of me whenever you want, I promise, Alex, as long as you'll let me touch you, eat you, drink you. I'll never be satiated with you.

So good to be *taken*, to be used, to stop watching myself. Lissinka, my Fox, take me where you wish, I'm following you. Nobody will hurt you any more. You'll never be alone again. Yes, bite me, mark me as yours, I'd like everybody to know we belong to one another; I'm so proud of you.

His channel's crushing me, so tight, so sweet. His rod pulses and jerks in my hand, and my fingers can't encircle him completely - God, when he'll take me it will be pure agony, pure joy, Alex. I look at him; my flesh is inside his body and my eyes wander around in his soul, through those so beautiful eyes. Why didn't he ask me before? Why didn't I stop struggling earlier?

He keeps hitting at my spot with each thrust and each time he drills deeper. I feel open as never and I want to drown in his hazel-green-grey-gold eyes - my God, they're changing all the time, and nobody ever looked at me with such love. Why didn't I come to him before? I'll never let him go. I never pray, but please don't take him from me. He's the only good thing that ever happened to me.

Alex, you don't purr any more, you're shouting now. I feel you clenching all around me. You're going to come for me, honey. And you're milking me; I won't last now, I wish I could... "Alex, my sweet one, I'm going to make you come. Tell me you want it. Tell me you want to come for me..."

His mouth, his lovely mouth... It whispers for me and I hear his pleasure in his voice; it's so close, he's so close... Oh yes, I'm going to come for him, for us, and I'm going to take him up there with me. "Yeah, Fox, make me come, babe, pleeeeeeaaaase... And I want you to come with me, together, come, Fox!"

I squeeze his splashing member strongly, tenderly, lovingly. His spasms shake his tall, long, wonderful body, and they strangle me by turns, driving my pleasure to its climax. He's moaning and rocking his head from side to side. And as I explode inside him, deep, deep, I bite his shoulder and crush him against me. Alex, don't even think of leaving. Not now that I know what it's like to be united.

I'm surfing the big wave and he's with me. We hold each other like children caught in the middle of an earthquake or an avalanche. Tonight I came for you to kill me; you'll never know how true it was. And you killed me, but only with love and pleasure. He's biting my shoulder and I want the mark to stay. I belong to him. Please, make him want to keep me. I'll never be able to face solitude again.

\-------------------

The two men part reluctantly. Krycek weakly stretches, and with a last effort Mulder reaches for the blanket and the sheet to pull them over their exhausted bodies. He raises an arm to turn the light out, but catches the anxious look of his lover and cancels the move. He kisses the angelic face that smiles with gratitude; soft kisses that land like butterflies all over the flushed skin. Krycek strokes the chestnut locks and in an almost inaudible voice he explains, "I can't stand the darkness, since North Dakota. Maybe I'll overcome my fear some day, if you..."

Mulder chuckles and answers in a sleepy whisper, "Maybe I'll become less paranoid if you take care of me. How could I fear anything with you by my side?"

Krycek nestles himself against Mulder's chest, breathing his relief. Mulder feels a kind of wetness in his neck and his hand strokes the silky hair soothingly. Far away a bell rings four times. Dozing in the warm embrace he remarks, "When you think that some guys are still in the second millenium..." But the only answer he receives is a light snore.

\-------------------

I wake up. Bedroom? Why am I... *him*. Alex. His jet-black hair tickles my chin. His arm is around my waist. What have I done? What have *we* done?

Memories of the last hours come back, restored by the scent of his skin, his sweat, his semen; and I feel a lazy heat invading my whole body, a long wave of happiness overcoming me. My lips softly kiss his head, resting in his silky hair.

Fuck. I really have to piss. Oh no, I felt so good. I must disentangle us without waking him up. I remember his reaction when I came back after the party. No wonder he's still alive and he always surprises me when breaking into my apartment. I just hope that if we're ever ambushed, he won't mistake me for his target. I gently take his hand and put his arm along his body, then I carefully lift up his head to lay it down back on our pillow. *Our*. How can a single pronoun sound so good?

I leave the bed making no more noise than a mouse and I make for the bathroom. I close the door. I don't want the running water to disturb him. I empty my bladder and realize a little wash could be useful. I'm quickly done, and back to the bedroom I check his breath. He's still asleep, fine. I slip between the sheets, eager to be back into his warmth.

I move very slowly, propping myself up on one elbow. I want to look at him more closely. Angel face. It strikes me once again. He looks so innocent, so young in his sleep. Where are all those years, all those struggles, all those deaths, all those betrayals? He said he didn't intend to change. How are we going to deal with all this mess? I wonder.

I lean closer to his face. I'd like to kiss this sweet mouth but I don't want him to wake up, not yet. He moans softly. His hand blindly searches for me and comes to rest on my hip, sending a quiver in my groin. My cock obediently answers his motion and I wonder if I must marvel or be ashamed? Hesitantly I take his hand and gently put it on my member. His sleepy fingers are enough to make me hard as hell and I can't help a hissing breath.

The lovely mouth I'm lost in admiration of suddenly grins. Resolute fingers close around me, making me jerk, and Alex chuckles, "Uh, uh, what have we here? Half a kilo of boom-boom?" His eyes open, sparkling with emerald laughter as he adds, "Would you like me to sign the receipt?"

"When did you wake up?" My tone sounds accusing as I feel cheated.

The green eyes narrow and the dreamy voice says, "When I felt cold. Without you. I always feel cold without you." His head leans toward me. His mouth lands on my chest and stays here, quickening my heartbeats. His hand is touching me with very slow and light strokes. The lips against my skin part and he whispers, "How do you want me to make you come, babe?"

I caress his hair, his temple, his cheek, his jaw. Maybe his broken voice could do it? We should try once, on the phone... Well, thinking of the future may be unwise. And why do so, when the present has everything I can dream of? I take hold of his firm erection as I push myself into his hand, offering, "You could fuck me?"

"No, I can't." The answer startles me and our gazes meet. I understand even less as his eyes are filled with what looks like adoration. "I don't think I can fuck you now, Fox," he says. "But I'd like so much to make love to you."

My dark angel. Of all his weapons. Am I the only one he ever tried to kill using tenderness? Then okay, do your job and kill me, sweetheart. I kiss his mouth, tasting him, drinking from him, drowning in him, before answering, "All you want, you take. Please."

With a last squeeze his fingers leave me to move to my waist and roll me over as his graveled voice whispers, "On your side. I won't need to keep my balance." Then, "Fox, where did you drop the lube?!" With a nervous laugh I plunge across the bed. I think I remember leaving it on the carpet, hum? Yes, here it is. I open it for him and he doesn't protest. I'm already nestling my back against him, not knowing exactly how to lie.

"You've never done this, have you?"

How does he know? I had a few homosexual experiences before, long ago, but I always was the one on top. Suddenly I feel really nervous. A few hours ago I dreamed of it but it was a fantasy. Yet I really want him. I'm sure of this. His hand is caressing my arm, so sweetly, and he's licking my shoulder, reaching the hollow of my neck, sucking at my ear. His breath is warm behind it and his husky voice brushes on my nerves, soothing, calming down my anguish.

"I'll be very careful, as much as you've been with me. We'll go very slowly. If something's painful, or just unpleasant, or if you change your mind, you must tell me, you promise? Don't be afraid, I understand. I'll stop at once if anything's wrong, and we do it another way. Yeah?" I nod. "And whatever happens, I won't be angry and I won't leave, okay?" I nod once again and I turn my head to ask for his mouth that I eagerly take.

Without letting go of my lips he lets his long fingers run on my exposed thigh, then under it, making goose bumps on my skin. He leans down closer to me, partly covering me, warming me, and his hand reaches my perineum. I can't suppress a shudder but he's just stroking me with his thumb, rubbing under my balls and back, reaching my opening little by little. And all the time his tongue is playing with mine, retreating here and there for some soothing "shhh".

At last he touches me *there* and his movements are so patient that I begin to rock my hips against his, longing for more. "I'm going to take some lube, okay?" His dark jade eyes are deep in mine, attentive to my smallest response, and I smile, allowing him to abandon me for a short while. I hear a slick noise and after a few seconds his fingers are back to their ministrations. One digit begins to circle my opening and I tense a little, I suppose, for his cheek tenderly rubs against mine, as he orders, no, he begs, "Look at me."

My neck is twisted. It's a little uncomfortable but I don't want to be anywhere else than here, his eyes in mine, his body along mine, his fingers still softly circling; but they are more insistent now, more precise. My cock is aching. It knows better than me. I want him, with all my heart, and so I tell him. He agrees and his finger gently pushes against my tender flesh. I try to relax but I'm so eager that my desire is more difficult to fight than my anxiety. "Breathe, Fox. Breathe slowly." I obey and yes, it's easier, my muscles yield and his finger enters me a little.

His eyes are so bright that I'm not quite sure they aren't going to shine in the dim light like those of a cat. I relax a little more and I willingly push myself against his finger. He smiles, a warm smile that illuminates my very soul, and he whispers, "Take it easy, honey. 'Don't want to hurt you."

"I know, but I want you, I want you so much! Please, you're teasing me. It's not fair, Alex..." I'm pleading but he's adamant.

"I must prepare you. This," he slowly moves in me, "is just one finger, Lissinka. I'm a little... broader. I know it will hurt anyway. Ready for a second one?" I hastily nod. He complies and I take a deep breath. Yes, of course, this is different. But his moves remain gentle and careful, and I relax once again around him. Then I jerk, for he's touched a spot that's sent a flash through my whole body. "Feels good?" There's a lovely smile deep in his eyes.

I frenetically nod; his lips kiss mine and he does it again, making me jerk all the same. "Nobody ever touched you there?" he asks. Hell, no, I'd remember. I think Phoebe tried once, but she was neither gentle nor careful, and I didn't let her continue, which made her furious. "That's what you did to me a while ago, again and again and again..." Saying so he goes on hitting the spot and I helplessly writhe under him, moaning in lusty agony. Then he abruptly stops and ignores my protest. "I don't want you to come so soon, Lissinka. Hmm?"

I try to regain an almost normal breathing and ask, "What about another finger? Or you?" My voice was never that shaky. I don't recognize it.

He nods. His lips wander about my neck and he whispers in my ear, his voice huskier than ever. "Yeah, a little more stretching won't hurt. You're so tight, my little..." He doesn't finish his sentence and I don't care. I'm just waiting for the sensations to increase and I'm not disappointed. He licks my ear, nibbling at it as his fingers perform a scissoring motion inside me. I gradually relax against him and his breath becomes deeper in my ear.

I slip tentatively my left hand between us and try to close my fingers around him. Ooops. Was is *that* big the last time? I tense once again, both in anxiety and desire. Alex's softly moaning in my neck. In a broken voice he says, "Are you really sure you want this, Fox? I don't want you to think you have to." I eagerly stroke him. Yes I want it, and with nobody else but him.

"Yes, Alex, please. Take me now..." He bites the side of my neck with gentle teeth, sucking on my skin as his fingers get out of me, leaving an emptiness I long to feel filled in. His forehead rests a while against the back of my head as he coats himself with more lube. My left hand helps him, spreading the cold jelly along his hard member. I feel him sliding between my buttocks and I take a deep breath, trying to unknot my muscles.

\-------------------

It's going to be difficult. I'm already so hard and swollen that Fox's hand nearly pushed me over the edge. I must think of something cold: snow, an ice cube, anything. I must concentrate on him too, on not hurting him; but each time I think of him, my arousal increases by one more degree. I can't close my eyes, as I must check his reaction. He's so eager, trying so hard to get ready...

I push my cock against his opening and he tenses. "Breathe, babe...," I whisper in his lovely ear. He complies with all his good will and I can try again. He has closed his eyes, focusing on his breath, and at last I succeed in placing the head of my cock inside him. He whines and I know that it surely hurts; he's so tight... A while before, I was on the verge of calling him "my little virgin" and I bit back the words just in time! I wait a little minute, without pulling out, just letting him become used to the feeling.

"We go on?" I ask him. He doesn't open his eyes but his smile is warm and his right hand comes to stroke my cheek. "I'm going to enter you fully," I warn him. "I'm sorry it's going to hurt, but when I'm inside I'll stay without moving for as long as it's necessary for you to feel good. If it's too painful, just tell me and we stop everything. Okay?"

His eyelids lift and I see his hazel eyes have turned to a deep shade of grey-green. He turns his head once more, twisting his neck to look at me as he firmly says, "Go on, Alex. I really want you. All of you, deep inside me." I nod but I wonder if he really knows what he's asking for? I take hold of his hip, parting his buttocks with my thumb, and without letting go of his eyes I sink into him; some little hard thrusts and I'm in. Well, not completely. I have a little more in stock for him if he can take it, but it will do for now.

His cheek is embedded in the pillow, his mouth wide open in a silent shout and I feel myself crushed to an almost painful point in his very narrow channel. It's burning like hell too! I hold him against me, stroking his waist, his chest, his nipples, all the time whispering sweet nothings into his temple. I really pray he can stand me. It would be hard to be deprived of his loins after having had a first taste of them. To think that nobody ever loved him that way, what a waste! But I'm happy to be his first; I'd be the greatest liar if I denied it.

He gradually relaxes in my embrace. His breathing becomes quieter and his stare loses its fixedness. I'm suddenly aware that all the time he has been tearing at my hair and I slightly turn my head for him to stop. He releases his grip and strokes my cheek again as he lifts up his mouth to ask for a kiss. I take his full lips, licking them, nibbling, searching for his tongue. When he breaks the kiss to regain his breath I ask, "How do you feel? Does it hurt much? Tell me, babe."

\-------------------

The pain and the burning were hard to stand. I knew it was going to be so, but to know and to feel... But it's almost gone now. All I feel is... him. Filling me, thick, burning, deep into me, completing me. I know I belong to him, now, for real. And I can't stop looking at his wonderful eyes. Arousal and hunger are raging in them together with tenderness and love. They've turned a deep blue-green hue, like open sea on a very sunny day. And the sun is inside me. He's asking me, and I wish I could express all of it.

"I'm fine... I feel you... It's wonderful; I didn't know, I... Oh Alex!" Tears are suddenly running on my cheeks, but these are tears of happiness. I see concern in his eyes and I reassure him. "I'm so happy, Alex. Thank you. I... I'd like you to move now. I want to feel you even more."

He turns my upper torso toward him, as it's easier to twist my waist than my neck now, and holding me tightly he begins to slowly move in me. He pulls out a little, with great care, and he's back, a little deeper. He does it again, and again, and suddenly his thick cock hits my gland like his finger before. I hear a long shout. Is is me? Yes - he's smiling at me and his smile grows wicked when he hits me once more, sending blazing lava through my senses.

At last he apologizes. "I'm sorry, I'd like to hold longer, but I'm so close... You're driving me crazy, Lissinka... But I want you to come first. I'm sure you're ready, aren't you?" His lips tease mine and his hand reaches across my stomach, to my groin, to my own hardness. He's right. I was so entranced in the sensation of him, that I forgot how much my cock was aching.

"Oh yes, Alex. I'm so close too... You're going to make me come for you, please. My God, it feels so good. You're so sweet..." His hand is squeezing me tightly and his cock continues to move inside me, drilling further each time, reaching parts of me I didn't know were reachable... I rock between his groin and his hand, and I feel both penetrated and penetrating. It's so intense that I'm afraid I'm going to faint. But instead I feel my climax building inexorably, and screaming I splash my load all over Alex's fingers.

\-------------------

I can't believe it: he took the whole of me. I'm sheathed in his love channel to the hilt and he's coming in long spasms, crushing me inside him. My sweet Fox, my lovely one... I never deserved this happiness; what have I done to be loved and trusted by such a fine man? He's screaming in my arm, his mouth wide open under mine, and the contractions of his muscles around me achieve to drive me over the edge. I explode inside him, and I'm ready to swear I never felt so deep a fulfillment in my entire life. We're both gasping for breath and I already want to eat him again!

I succeed in emitting a few words. "Lissinka, did I hurt you? Please tell me. I couldn't resist any longer, you felt so good. Tell me, how do you feel?" His lips move but not a sound escapes them. He grins, such happy a grin - I suppose it's a satisfying answer. I should leave his body now but I haven't the strength to do so. I'm empty... I just want to stay here. Yet I turn him on his side a little, so he can lie more comfortably. I know he'd prefer to remain face to face with me, but I nestle my mouth in the hollow of his shoulder and stay here, softly kissing his tender flesh, my hand still holding his cock as it slowly turns flaccid.

\-------------------

I wake up, stretch, yawn... Ouch, my whole body feels sore. I turn over in the bed and my rectum hurts, reminding me all of a sudden of the late night's adventures.

Alex? He isn't near me. A bitter anger rises inside my chest; he's left me! He promised not to do but of course, all this was a new trick. How can I've been so stupid?! My mind is angry, but my heart shivers. And my loins protest. My traitorous senses are longing for him and the thought of his warm body along mine, his hand holding my cock, his eyes filled with deep concern don't fit with the information my brain is gathering from my surroundings.

I jump out of the bed and shout through the silence of my apartment, "Krycek, if you leave me now, I swear I'm going to kill you as soon as I..."

But an amused voice answers my imprecations. "And if I stay here you're going to kill me all the same. Starving me to death, I presume."

I burst into the kitchen and find my Alex in jeans and t-shirt, rummaging through the fridge with an incredulous look. He straightens up, turns to face me and smirks, "How long has it been since you bought anything other than take-away, Fox?" In front of my piteous glance he humorously adds, "I thought you needed a bodyguard, but a dietician seems more of an emergency."

He comes to me, pins my naked body against the counter - ouch, my buttocks, it hurts - and encircling my waist with his strong arm, he takes my mouth in a very long, very hot, very loving kiss. Then, "Good morning, Lissinka. Kak dela?"

"...?"

"How dya feel?"

"Huh, sore."

"Yeah, I guess. Me too," he chuckles. "And I feel happy."

"I'm happy too," I flatly answer. I say *flatly*, for I'd like to tell him so much, but I don't know what to begin with. Then my stomach emits a rumbling sound that makes him stare at me with a raised eyebrow. "Well, I'm also hungry," I admit. "And it's true, I have nothing here but coffee. Usually I don't have real breakfast or I just take something on the way."

"Humph. That's disgusting." His lips are pouting in the most lovable way. "You know, I'm not going to live on pizzas if I can avoid it. So, my first resolution for the new millenium is: from now on I'm going to feed you properly. And second: we're going to have a real breakfast *now*."

Now? I'm puzzled. I look in despair around the kitchen but nothing pops up by sheer magic on the table or the counter. "Come on, Fox, there's a small coffee shop at the corner of the street. So, shower first," he irreverently slaps my bottom, "then coffee, buns, doughnuts, and everything. After the coffee I think I'll have more whipped cream, hmmm?" he chuckles, rubbing his jeans against my cock that's coming back to life. "Okay?"

"You... you want me to go and have breakfast with you at the neighborhood coffee shop? People are going to see us," I stammer. I'm disconcerted.

He frowns and the crease at the top of his straight nose deepens. "What? Are you ashamed of me?"

Jeez! The idea never ever crossed my mind! "No, I'm... I'm proud of you. Alex, I... I love you. But I don't want you to be in danger because of me."

"I think I'm more in danger in an empty kitchen, Fox! You don't find thugs in every coffee shop in DC, you know. Even if this one is near your apartment. What did you say tonight? That you were going to be less paranoid if I was by your side? That's a very good third resolution. So?"

I don't answer. I take his head in both my hands and look deep in his perfect jade eyes. I search them for, I don't know what, a glimpse of lie, a trace of duplicity? They are clear, loving, caring. At last I repeat, "Shower and breakfast? Together?" He nods. "And then, you're staying here?"

He nods again. "As long as you can stand me, Fox."

Well, as far as I'm concerned we're in for a good while. Something like a lifetime. And maybe our life expectancy is going to increase if it's the two of us together against the rest of the world?

(The End)

  
The Coptic calendar begins on 08/29, 284 of Julian era - this one begins on 01/01, 4713 BC. So Coptic calendar's first day goes back to 4429 BC, and then it is the oldest calendar still in use in the world (but I can be wrong...)

  
Archived: 20:18 03/04/01 


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